Innkeeping with Murder - Tim Myers [7]
To most, Hatteras West was just another Carolina oddity.
But to Alex it was home.
In less than six minutes, Sheriff Armstrong pulled up in front of the inn, Doc Drake beside him. The blue lights flashed, but at least the sheriff hadn’t used his siren coming in.
Alex glanced nervously around. None of his guests were about.
Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all.
Chapter 3
Barb Matthews popped out of nowhere and somehow managed to get to the patrol car ahead of Alex. Before Armstrong could make it out of the cruiser, the woman was tapping incessantly on the sheriff’s window with her walking stick.
“Why were you flashing your lights? Is it the gas leak? Is the lighthouse going to explode?”
Armstrong looked warily at the overbearing woman as he swung his door open. “I don’t know anything about a leak. I was just testing my lights out on the open road.”
Thank goodness for small miracles. Dame Matthews thought every man alive was born a fool, and the sheriff’s explanation did nothing to change her mind. She shot Alex a look of disgust, then stormed away onto a nearby wooded path as the sheriff and the doctor got out of the cruiser.
The policeman spoke first. “What’s her problem, Alex? I thought she was going to whack me with that stick for a minute.” On a taller man, Calvin Armstrong’s weight might have been reasonable. But the sheriff was closer to six feet than the nine feet he’d need to have a proportionate height/weight ratio. The khaki uniform he wore looked like its seams had been reinforced with fishing line to hold in his great bulk.
Alex looked at Barb Matthews’ retreating figure and said, “She enjoys stirring things up.”
Steven Drake, the small and wiry town doctor, hopped out of the passenger seat and offered a nod to Alex. “I hear you’ve got a body on your hands?” he said. “Can’t be good for business, can it?”
Alex lowered his voice as he spoke, hoping the two men would follow suit. “The man who died is a fellow who’s been coming here since before I was born. We were good friends. I guess his heart just wore out on the climb up the lighthouse steps.”
The doctor nodded in sympathy. Moving toward the diagonal black and white striped tower, Drake quickly reached the lighthouse’s entry door. The other two men had no choice but to follow. The doctor, a vigorous man in his early forties, led every walk he ever took. Alex thought the man would have made a great drum major. They got to the “Closed” sign on the door, and Armstrong nodded. “I guess it is, for that particular guest.”
Alex kept silent, fighting the anger he suddenly felt for the sheriff. It was just sinking in that Reg was gone, not just for another season, but forever. Alex unlocked the door, then stepped out of Doc Drake’s way. No sense in having the man try to run him off the stairs.
Alex followed, with Armstrong taking up the rear. It was obvious the sheriff was not used to climbing. He barely made it to the first of the nine landings before he had to stop for a breather.
By the time Alex had climbed the last of the metal steps, the doctor had already managed to turn the body over and start his examination.
Alex said, “Was I right, Doc? It was his heart, wasn’t it?”
When Drake turned to face Alex, his expression was stern and cold. “What’s keeping the sheriff?”
“He’s taking a break, but he should be right along. Why, what is it?”
Drake shook his head sadly. “Your friend didn’t have a heart attack, Alex. Somebody jammed an ice pick into the base of his neck. Pretty nasty business. The poor fella never had a chance.”
Alex couldn’t believe it. “It’s murder? Are you sure? Who’d want to kill Reg?”
Drake turned back to the body. “That’s going to be up to the sheriff to decide. There’s no doubt it was foul play. Lean down here a second with me. See that entry wound? Someone jammed some kind